Fiona was up, dressed, and pacing around the “guest room,” staring at her phone when Casey knocked and walked in.
Seeing Fiona eyeing her phone, Casey snapped into high-alert mode. “Did you get a call?”
Fiona raised her head and what Casey saw on her face was annoyed indecision rather than fear.
“No, I guess even the detectives don’t plan on bothering me at seven a.m. I was trying to decide whether to go bother my brother or not. He was going to arrange for a cleanup of my apartment. I want to start right away, so I’d like to get on the phone and make it happen. But he’s buried in the guts of my computer, and if there’s a specific company he has in mind…”
“We do have one we’ve used as needed,” Casey said. “They’re very thorough and very responsive.” She nixed the idea of offering to make the call. Fiona needed to feel in control of her own life, especially now, when it was near impossible to do. Even something as small as running the show about her house restoration was imperative. “I’ll text you their contact information right now.” She whipped out her cell. “Just mention that you’re our client. It’ll move things up on their priority list.”
Fiona gave her a grateful smile. “Great. Thanks so much.” She waited while Casey sent the text, glancing at the phone as soon as she heard the receiving bing. “Is it too early to call?”
“Nope. Go ahead.” Casey turned. “I’m going to see how far Ryan’s gotten anyway.”
“You’re braver than I am.”
“You’re his sister. I’m his boss. He can’t ream me out.” Casey tossed the words back over her shoulder. “By the way, there’s tons of food in the fridge, so make yourself some breakfast. I’ll join you in a bit.”
Fiona was already making the call as Casey reached the staircase.
***
Ryan was staring at his monitor when Casey stepped into the lair.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s going, but not in a good way,” he replied in a grim tone.
“Go on.”
He gripped the arms of his chair, swiveling it around to face Casey. “Whenever I set up MAC OS X, I always turn on journaling so I can see what’s happening after the fact. The MacBook Pro I gave Fee had that feature intact. The journal log revealed that whoever broke into her apartment made a copy of everything on her hard drive. My guess is that they’re combing through her entire life looking for clues to whatever they’re searching for and whatever Rose Flaherty was digging into that got her killed.”
Casey stayed silent as Ryan’s body language told her he had more to say.
“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Ryan confirmed her intuition by continuing. “I found some nasty little keystroke logger—as in major spyware—that the intruders installed. Apparently they weren’t satisfied with just copying all Fee’s information, they wanted to keep tabs on her and whoever she talks to going forward.”
His lips thinned in anger. “The spyware captures and sends Fiona’s keystrokes to a remote server, where what she types is logged. It also secretly sends copies of her emails to the same remote server. And the lucky bastards get a bonus in the process—they get to see Fee’s text messages, courtesy of OS X’s tight integration with iOS. She set up her laptop so that her text messages display on her MacBook as well as her iPhone. So her texts are also relayed to the same remote server. All that explains why the scumbags left the laptop at her townhouse, rather than ripping it off.”
“Wouldn’t you have to enter a password to gain access to a Mac?” Casey asked.
“Absolutely. Somehow these guys knew her password. I need to talk to Fee to find out how they knew hers.”
“Okay.” Casey studied Ryan’s body language, heard the uncharacteristic emotion in his explanation. “Can’t you just disable the feature you’re describing so that her text messages stay private?”
“Yeah, I could, but then those scumbags would know we’re onto them. So, like it or not, we have to let them spy on Fee and wait until we can turn the tables on them.”
Casey chose her next words carefully.
“Ryan, you’re very personally involved in all this—and I don’t blame you. We’re talking about your sister. But I need you to stay focused and professional. Given all you just told me, what would you advise us to do and what would you advise Fiona to do if she were a client with no emotional ties to you and, by association, us?”
Ryan ran his hands through his hair, as if to clear the cobwebs clouding his normally logical mind—a mind that was now consumed with Fiona’s safety.
“First, I need to figure out how Fiona’s password was compromised. Fortunately, Macs prevent you from using the same password for iCloud and access to your Mac. At this moment they are probably combining Fiona’s Mac password with other details of her life to see if they can get lucky and score her iCloud password. We need to shut them down now or they will have access to all her photos, including ones of the tapestries.”
He steepled his hands in front of his face, intensifying his concentration. Abruptly, his head came up. “I know what to do after that,” he said with absolute certainty. “It means giving Yoda instructions right now. Can I run with it?”
Casey waved her hand. “Go ahead.”
“Yoda,” he called out. “Please make a bit-by-bit copy of the SSD in Fiona’s MacBook Pro. I want this treated as a normal forensic investigation. Next, I want you to make another copy that we can analyze. Start by sorting all the files on the drive by content type. Photos in one folder. Word documents, Photoshop files with Fiona’s designs, iMessages—if they’re not encrypted—and emails into separate folders. Build a timeline that references each one of those objects so that if we want to get a reverse chronological view of Fiona’s life, we can do that.”
“Initiating now, Ryan,” Yoda responded.
Casey, seeing where this was going, added her unique viewpoint and expertise into the mix.
“Yoda, in addition to Ryan’s requests, please build another view of the data based on a threaded conversation. Focus on Fiona’s first contact with the murder victim, Rose Flaherty. Then add content to enrich both the text and email messages. I want us to be able to understand these two women from the perspective of when their relationship started, how it progressed both personally and professionally.”
“Yes, Casey,” Yoda replied.
Ryan frowned. “Casey, I’m the first to boast Yoda’s skills. But as his creator, I’ve got to stress that AI isn’t one hundred percent accurate. We still need hands-on work. The entire FI team has to sift through Fiona’s digital life searching for clues. We’re starting off way behind the bad guys in one respect. They know what they’re looking for and why. We have what they’re looking for but haven’t the vaguest idea why they’re important.”
“Understood.” Casey paused, considering the best course of action. “Yoda,” she added, “please send messages to the entire team instructing them to pack overnight bags and plan on camping out here for as long as it takes. We’ll set up our own War Room to handle this as if it were a crisis.” All the FI members were familiar with the term War Room and knew what it meant: a tight location where the team would come together, brainstorm and develop ideas, and, using their collective skills and creativity, solve a complex problem in an impossibly short time constraint.
Again, Yoda responded in the affirmative.
Casey turned back to Ryan. “Claire and I will focus on the threaded conversation view. Between us, I think we’ll be able to understand the two women and what they were thinking leading up to the murder. I want Marc and Patrick to drill in on the timeline. They’re our best and most experienced investigators and will see both the pattern of what’s there as well as what elements are missing. Fiona can be pulled into each sub-team to answer questions as needed. And you’ll keep analyzing the hard drive for anything we’re missing. The only time there will be absentee teammates is tonight, when Claire and I are going to your parents’ house. We’ll keep it to as short a time frame as possible. But Fiona needs us there, and so does our investigation. So we’re going. Does all that work?”
“Yeah, but it’s not enough.” Ryan barely heard the last part of what Casey said. His mind was already racing ahead to the next step of his plan. “I want to set a trap for these bastards. I think I can create a proxy computer that would act as a filter between the real world and Fee’s compromised MacBook. I can decide what information is allowed to pass from the proxy to the MacBook and ultimately to those scumbags who are spying on her. They’ll have no way of knowing I’m maneuvering their process. They’ll think Fee is trying to put her life back together and that she’s unaware they’re watching and listening in on every move she makes. The reality will be that we’ll be feeding them bullshit when we need to. And when the time is right, I’ll send those fuckers right into a booby trap with me and Marc waiting for them.”
“Hold on there, cowboy,” Casey said. “I’m fine with everything but the last part. I don’t need you killing people and spending the rest of your life in jail. Let’s wait and see how this plays out. Detectives Alvarez and Shaw are already up our asses. If we blatantly sidestep them, it won’t be pretty. We’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect Fiona. But she wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid, and neither would I.”
“And Fiona is standing right here, agreeing with everything Casey is saying.”
Both Casey and Ryan turned to see Fiona perched in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. “I just arrived, so I only heard the tail end of this conversation, and I only understood pieces of it. But it sure sounds to me like you’re putting yourself in danger and, secondarily, that you’re cutting me out of the equation. I appreciate everything you’re doing—that you’re all doing. But if what you’re saying is that you’ll be deciding what can and can’t be sent through my computer, I think I should have a say in that. You can handle the bad guys. But I have a life, Ryan, and a profession. I can’t stop living while this case is being solved. There are people I need to communicate with—clients, my marketing manager, new prospective buyers.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say you couldn’t communicate with anyone. Only that I’ll have to see and approve anything you send. Your life’s on the line.”
“I get it.” Fiona clearly understood. She just as clearly disliked what she was understanding. “And what am I going to do when I visit clients? I need to take my laptop with me, to take them through my designs step by step, even change them on the fly.”
“That ain’t happening.” Ryan sliced the air with his palm. “Your computer and the proxy will go home to your place once it’s cleaned up—and they’ll stay there. There’s no other way to do this. So use that creative mind of yours to come up with another way to dazzle your clients. This won’t be forever, Fee. If you let us do our jobs, it’ll be over soon—and you’ll be safe.”
“And you? Will you be safe?” Fiona demanded. “Bursting in like James Bond to taunt the bad guys? That’s sheer insanity.”
“I agree,” Casey said. “So, at the finish line, if we can get law enforcement involved, that would be best.”
Ryan shot her a look. “When has that ever been best?”
“At times like these. We’re effectively working a murder case because that’s what Fiona’s caught up in. And that means the NYPD. We can cross only subtle lines, not blatant ones. Nothing out-and-out illegal. I’m serious, Ryan. And you know it. You also know I’m right.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ryan blew out an exasperated breath. “We just do things so much faster and better.”
“Then let’s do what we can do faster and better. We’re already walking a fine line about withholding evidence. The minute the detectives put Fiona in a position where she has to mention the tapestries, they’ll be firmly linked to the crimes, and we’ll have to share everything we know. The more we accomplish before that happens, the more control we have.”
Ryan gave a tight nod. “Yoda should be finished in an hour or so. Then we’ll move.” Abruptly, his eyes widened in an uncustomary show of panic, as he recalled the rest of what was going on around him. He stared at his sister, scrutinizing her as if to ascertain her well-being. “I’ve been here all night. Where did you sleep? Shit. If you stayed at my place, you were alone. Unless Claire was with you? Shit.”
“I’m fine, Ryan,” Fiona said gently, seeing the level of his distress. “Thanks to Casey, I stayed here last night. Also thanks to Casey, I just hung up with your cleanup crew. I’m meeting them at my place in an hour so we can start getting it back to normal. And John Nickels, who I met last night and is awesome, will be right there safeguarding me. So it’s all cool.”
Ryan gave Casey a look of sheer gratitude. “Thanks, boss.” His gaze shifted back to Fiona. “I really screwed up on the personal front. I got so laser-focused down here…”
“I expected that. It’s your job. I’m fine.” A hint of a grin touched Fiona’s lips. “I love you, but I also know you. That’s why I let Casey step in. So no harm, no foul.”
Abruptly, her grin transformed into a worried frown. “Ry, if these guys have access to my texts, that means they have the whole slew of the texts I sent you last night when I was still at Mom and Dad’s—the ones asking you to refine the tapestry images. I sent you photos of all thirteen tapestry panels, including the two hanging in the house.”
Ryan waved away her concern. “We may have gotten lucky here. Those photos are in a shared album in iCloud. Remember I set that up for you? So in order to access the photos, someone needs your iCloud password, which they don’t have, at least right now. Speaking of passwords, the bad guys needed to log in to your Mac to clone the hard drive and install a keystroke logger. How did they know your password?”
Fiona thought and an embarrassed flush rose to her cheeks. “I’m sorry I’m such a ditz when it comes to remembering computer stuff—especially passwords. I wrote my password on a Post-it that I left somewhere on my desk. I guess they found it.”
Ryan squelched his annoyance. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that now. What’s your iCloud password?”
“Feefihohumgold. Why?”
“Shit. They have eighty percent of it already. One lucky guess on their part—adding gold to the end of your Mac password and they have access to all your photos. Shit. Shit. Shit. And if I change your iCloud password, they’ll receive an email notifying them of that. They’ll know we’re onto them.”
Fiona dragged a worried hand through her hair. “I really messed things up. Isn’t there anything we can do? What if I call Apple and explain all this?”
“They can’t do anything, Fee.” A fleeting hope entered Ryan’s brain. “Wait. What email address are you using for your iCloud account? Is it fiona@fionamckayjewelry.com?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Bingo. I can fix this. First I’ll change the routing of your email server so emails to your account go to a dummy account first. Then I can decide what emails to allow to pass and what emails will be deleted. The security email from Apple announcing a change in iCloud password will be deleted. The bad guys trying to hack into your iCloud account will never know.” He shot her a pointed look. “And Fee, I’m choosing a new 16-character random password for your iCloud account once everything is in place. Oh, I’ll also need your iPhone and iPad to update your Keychain passwords.”
He angled his head toward Casey, who looked pretty grim at the revelation. “I doubt these guys have my expertise. Still, I can’t know for sure that they haven’t already hacked into Fee’s iCloud account. So as soon as Yoda’s finished, we need to review the texts and the photos before we go on to anything else, see how much worse it might be if we are wrong and they have access to all the photos.”
“There’s just one glimmer of hope, if you want to call it that,” Casey said. “If those photos and texts you two sent each other last night give the bad guys whatever they need, maybe they’ll leave Fiona alone.”
“Do you really believe that?” Ryan demanded, his tone utterly dubious.
“No, and neither do you,” Fiona answered for him. “Photos, no matter how professionally enhanced, don’t compare to the real panels. And I’m their link to those. So, as much as I appreciate Casey trying to calm me down, it’s not going to work. We have to find these guys, figure out what they want, and then make sure they’re locked away for Rose’s murder.” Abruptly, she paled. “Ry, they know the tapestry panels weren’t at my place. What if they guess they’re at Mom and Dad’s?”
“Shit, you’re right.” His gaze darted to Casey. “Can Patrick…”
Casey already had her phone out, checking the time before pressing the button for Patrick’s number. “He’s probably about to hit the Holland Tunnel by now.” Patrick hated mass transit. He drove in from his house in Hoboken every day. “Let me try to catch him before the reception becomes spotty.” She held up one finger as Patrick picked up his phone.
“Hey,” she said. “We need security at Fiona and Ryan’s parents’ house in the Bronx. Woodlawn. Who do you have near there?” She listened. “Close enough. Can you get one of the two of them to the address I’m about to text you ASAP? Sorry about the no-notice. But we’re afraid the killer might guess the tapestries are at the McKays’, which would put them both in danger. Hang on.” Holding the phone away from her ear, Casey sent the text, then asked Patrick, “Did you get that?”
She gave Fiona and Ryan a quick nod. “Call me when things are in place. You also got Yoda’s email? You can make a quick trip home after rush hour tonight and pack a bag. We need all hands on deck.” Another pause. “Thanks. See you in a few.”
She disconnected the call. “It’s done. Patrick will have someone at your folks’ place within the hour.”
“That fast?” Fiona was gaping. “How can he do that?”
Casey smiled. “Patrick’s network is wide. After thirty years with the FBI, twenty-five of them spent at the New York field office, he’s amassed tons of contacts. A substantial number of them are now retired and work security. He recruits the best of the best.”
“And they show up before he has time to hang up the phone,” Ryan added, clearly proud of his teammate. “He’s one of a kind—just like we all are.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Keep working, Ry. We already know how good you are. And if we dare to forget, you remind us.”
“That’s me.” Ryan turned back to his screen. “Speaking of which, time to tap into the NYPD’s database and see if they’ve come up with anything new on the case. Doubtful. But by that time, Yoda should have what we need.”